A Rat's Nest Romance
by SpartaLazor
Summary: Simmons and Grif have moved on from Blood Gulch, and now reside in Rat's Nest. When Simmons finds himself in love with one of the team's female soldiers, it's up to Grif to help him get the girl. Will they succeed, and is there more behind her dazzling blue eyes than it seems?
1. Arrivals

_Chapter One: Arriving_

"So, this is the new place," Grif commented, sitting up in the Warthog's passenger seat as the vehicle rolled into Rat's Nest. "The new base looks, well...like a rat's nest. Apparently, the name fits well."

Simmons sighed as he stopped the Warthog. "Yeah, whatever." He had been in a bad mood ever since they received their relocation orders back in Blood Gulch. And since he read who got promoted. "I still can't believe that they picked you as the new Sergeant. Couldn't the pick someone who was actually suited for the job?"

"You're still sore about that?" Grif jumped out of the vehicle, and looked around for his troops. "I thought after the first million times you bitched about it, you'd have gotten over it by now. But it looks like I was wrong."

"Oh, trust me, it doesn't end there," Simmons retorted. "You haven't been on the job for more than a week, and you've already broken three rules on the trip over here. All of which are more than simple misdemeanors."

"You know what, Simmons?" Grif asked, folding his arms. "I don't give a shit. I've finally got a job I'll be good at. All I have to do is sit around and tell people what to do and they'll do it. And if there's nothing new to do, they'll have to do something they already did before, but better this time. For once, I won't have to do anything."

Simmons rolled his eyes, and pulled his Battle Rifle from the weapon rack in the Warthog. "Being a leader is more than giving orders. You'll have to lead us in combat, and make all the tough decisions that come with the job. Not only that, you'll have to be a role model to all of your subordinates. You know what that means."

Grif nodded. "Yeah. It means that they're all going to respect me for bossing them around, and you'll be jealous because none of that respect will be aimed at you."

"That's not the point," Simmons replied. "You'll have to give up smoking and drinking. Otherwise, we'll have a five more Grifs around, and that would just make me have to kill myself. They would all be fat and lazy assholes like you."

"Don't insult a superior officer like that," Grif snapped. "If I hear one more complaint from you, I'll put you in the women's quarters. Trust me, you're the one guy that would find that to be hell."

"Wait, there's going to be girls here?" Simmons asked, suddenly sounding worried. "Why wasn't I informed of this? I didn't plan on this!"

Grif smirked. "I didn't tell you simply because I wanted to see the look on your face. Normally, I would've waited until the troops actually got here before letting you know, but I thought you might want to know in advance. You know, so you won't kill me later."

"Grif..." Simmons growled.

"What the hell is your problem?" Grif asked with a shrug. "So what? We're getting two girls on the team? It's not like it's the end of the world."

"But...but what if they, you know," Simmons said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "What if they try to talk to me? You know that I don't like it when girls pay direct attention to me."

Grif sighed. "Yes, I am aware of that. But you really need to break out of your shell. You know, be more of a people person. Some guys have trouble talking to girls, and I have a solution for that."

"Part of me wants to stop listening, since this is probably going to be stupid. But, the other half of me wants to keep listening to see just how stupid." He shrugged. "Go ahead."

"Simple," Grif replied. "Just talk to them like you talk to guys. Brush gender aside and think of them as a person in general. Not male or female, but human." Grif paused, letting that sink in. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go steal pillows from the soldiers' bunks. I want my bed to be the most comfortable. That's where I'll be spending most of my time anyway."

Simmons watched as Grif walked away. His mind was processing the advice that the orange one had given him. To be honest, he was surprised that he found some truth in it, rather than it being complete crap like he had expected.

He put his rifle on his back, and began walking toward the bunkhouses when he heard the whine of a Mongoose engine.

A figure in red armor pulled up to him and dismounted the ATV. With a single fluid motion, the trooper whipped off her helmet, revealing a cascade of blonde hair. Tucking her ODST helmet in the crook of her arm, she saluted Simmons. "Private Lindsey West reporting for duty. Are you Sergeant Grif?"

"Um..." Simmons replied, nervously locking up. Talk to her like a person, his mind reminded him, not as a girl. "No...I'm not." He stared into her dazzling blue eyes, feeling something stirring inside of him. Even though he was the smart one, he had no idea what it was. And that scared him a little bit.

"Can you tell me where to find him, then?" she asked, dropping her salute.

"He's, um...in the bunkhouses."

Lindsey smiled and nodded. "Thanks." She held her hand out to Simmons. "Most people call me Lin for short. You?"

"Oh me? I'm, um...Dick Sim-Richard Simmons," Simmons stammered. "Most people just call me Simmons though." He looked over to the door to the bunkhouses, and saw Grif peering out at them.

"Shake her hand, dumbass," Grif ordered over the radio. "Don't just leave her hanging."

"Oh, right." Simmons hesitantly shook her hand, and sighed quietly in relief when Lin took her hand back with a smile, and headed toward Grif. "That actually went pretty well," he told himself, leaning against the Warthog. "Perhaps this won't be so hard after all."

* * *

**Two Hours Later**

* * *

"Where the hell is everyone else?" Grif asked, standing outside of the base. So far, no one else had arrived yet, and the sun was beginning to set. "They didn't get ambushed by the Blues, did they? I mean, I guess it's possible."

Simmons shrugged. "That's possible, unless these Blues are anything like the ones from Blood Gulch. Those guys couldn't do anything right. If they tried to ambush our guys, I'm sure they would just end up killing each other somehow."

There was knock on the wall to draw their attention. "Um, excuse me, sir," Lin said, walking out of the bunkhouses. "Command was just on the radio. They wanted me to tell you that the rest of the team had to take an alternate route, and they won't start arriving until late tomorrow afternoon."

Grif sighed and shifted on his feet. "Well then, I guess there's only one thing we can do. Split their dinner rations among ourselves. How does 10-10-80 sound?"

"What? That means that you get enough food for at least three people!" Simmons exclaimed. "And while I know that you usually eat more than that, shouldn't we save it for emergencies? Hide it in case the Blues attack and steal most of our food or something?"

"Great thinking, Simmons," Lin agreed. "He's right, sir," she said to Grif. "I think we should set it to the side."

"You're both right," Grif acknowledged. "But, I like the eating it now part. We're going to do that."

Simmons sighed. "Yeah, I saw that coming," he muttered as Grif walked off toward the mess hall, which was little more than a small corner of the base with tables and chairs made out of crates. There were two refrigerators against the wall.

"Um, is Sergeant Grif always like that?" Lin asked.

"Constantly eating other people's food when they're not there? Yeah, pretty much," Simmons replied. "He's done it so often that he got fatter and fatter, then Sarge and I would have to butter him up just fit him into his armor. The new armor's undersuits are made out of some really stretchy crap, probably made with Grif in mind." He motioned toward the mess hall. "Come on, let's go eat."

* * *

Simmons poked at the slices of pizza on his plate. They were decent sized slices of cheese pizza, and they were even thin-crust; Simmons' favorite. The downsize was that they were still cold. "Hey, Grif! Hurry the hell up with the microwave! Other people are waiting to use it!"

"Oh, just be patient!" Grif yelled. Since he had stolen the rest of the soldiers rations for the day, he had ten pieces of pizza, including his own, and he was heating up each piece one at a time for "quality temperature." The downside: By the time he'd finished heating up all ten, the first ones would've already become cold again.

"Meh, I'm done being patient," Lin muttered, taking a bite out of one slice of her cold pepperoni pizza. "It's not actually all that bad cold," she said after several seconds of chewing. "It's great for breakfast." Even though she was acting fine, Simmons knew well enough that she really wanted it heated up.

"Grif, why don't you let us just heat up our pizza first?" Simmons asked. "Between Lin and I, there's only four pieces. If we heat up both slices at the same time for 45 seconds, we'll be done in a minute and a half. Then you can go back to senselessly trying whatever it is you're doing."

He shot a quick look over to Lin, who was looking intently at Grif with a pleading look. Grif looked back at them. "Meh, a minute and a half is too long."

"But you've been trying to heat up those pizzas for the past ten minutes, sir," Lin interjected. "It would be more efficient if you let us go now, and then continue when we're done."

"Screw that," was Grif's reply. "Efficiency is all a lie anyway."

Simmons saw her defeated look as she took another bite of cold pizza, and suddenly felt obliged to help. "Hey, Grif," he said, rising from his crate-chair, "Weren't you taught that it's ladies first?" he asked, motioning to Lin, who looked up at him.

Simmons felt different when she looked at him. Normally, he was a nervous wreck and silently prayed that she would look away, especially when he had his helmet off. Now...it was still the same, although he silently prayed that she wouldn't look away. Something just felt right.

Grif looked at Simmons, then at Lin, then at his pile of pizza. "Fine, whatever," he said, gathering up his pizza and taking to the makeshift table. "Stupid microwave doesn't work anyway."

Simmons looked at Lin and motioned to the microwave. "All yours," he said.

She smiled as she stood up. "Thanks."

As she went to the microwave, Grif looked up at Simmons and gave him a smile and a thumbs-up, and then went back to eating his pizza.

Simmons frowned. "What was that for?"

Grif shook his head and waved it off. "So, Private," he said as Lin sat back down with her plate of steaming pizza, "What's your story?"

"Trust me, it's nothing exciting," she replied. "I was born and raised in New York City, and later joined the army. I was trying to become a Marine, but I guess my test scores were low, so I was shipped out here."

"Let me guess," Simmons said, sitting down with his own pizza. "Was it the time limits? Or that stupid thing about the No. 2 pencils?"

Lin shrugged. "I guess I just suck as a soldier."

"Meh," Simmons replied. "Don't worry about it. We all suck."

Grif laughed. "I think I'm going to make that our new team motto."


	2. More Arrivals

_Chapter Two: More Arrivals_

Grif woke up that morning in a great mood, since he had a good, long, comfortable night. The extra pillows that he had stolen from his soldiers contributed to that. He rolled out of bed and over to where he'd dumped his armor.

After pulling the undersuit on, he slowly began to reattach every piece of armor one by one, and soon he slipped his helmet onto his head. "Now, on to building my office," he said, looking over his Sergeant's Quarters.

It was small to Grif's standards, but still larger than any of the other rooms. There was a desk in the middle of the room with a crate-chair next to it. A cardboard box sat on the desk, containing the new computer from Command. Simmons was going to have to hook that up. A large TV was mounted on the wall next to the door, used for monitoring the security cameras around the base. That would have to be switched to football. Which Simmons would also have to do.

"Damn," Grif muttered to himself, as he walked to the door and pressed the button. "I really need to learn to live without Simmons having to set everything up. But learning all that computer crap is hard and boring..."

When the door slid open, Lin was standing there waiting for him. She was already in her full armor, and appeared to have been awake for a while. In one hand she held a coffee mug, and in the other a datapad. "Good morning, sir," she said, handing him the mug of coffee. "I made it just the way you like."

"Oh, um...thanks," Grif answered, taking the mug. He pulled off his helmet and took a sip. "Not too much sugar, not too little sugar. And it's hot, but too hot, and just right. How'd you know?"

Lin shrugged. "I asked Simmons."

"Anything new to report?" Grif asked, walking down the hall with Lin following behind him. "How about the rest of our team?"

"They're on their way now, should be here within the next few hours," Lin replied, looking over her datapad. "Last time they checked in, they were resting at another Red team base."

Grif nodded. "That's good, I guess. How about weapons? Did the weapons get here yet?"

"Arrived half an hour ago. Simmons is checking them and sorting them out." She paused. "I also did recon on the Blues. There's some good news and bad news."

"Wait, you did all that, and you scouted the Blue base?" Grif asked, surprised. "You're a lot more useful than I thought you'd be."

She shrugged. "Yeah well...thanks, sir."

"Give me the bad news first."

"Well...the bad news is that our team's kill count is still at zero," she replied, pulling up a file on the datapad. "The good news, is that they got a new soldier this morning, and then one of their guys is dead."

Grif frowned. "So, they're pretty much at the same place as they were before, right?"

"Yep."

"How did they lose a solider?"

Lin laughed. "I saw the whole thing, sir. There was a friendly fire incident. I managed to remotely hack into their terminal, and downloaded all their personnel files. Here's the one that shot his teammate." She handed the datapad to her Sergeant.

Grif took it as he took another sip of coffee. He read the name and burst into laughter, spraying the coffee on the wall. "That just makes my job ten times easier!" he exclaimed. "I'm going to go show this to Simmons!"

"Before you leave, is there anything else I can do, sir?" Lin asked, folding her hands behind her back. "We've got a box of fresh doughnuts in the mess hall. I can get you one if you want."

"Do that. But don't get me one. Bring me two. No wait, three. You know what, just bring me the whole box."

"Yes sir," Lin saluted and headed off into the mess hall.

* * *

Simmons took a step back and admired his work. The weapons had been sorted and placed into weapons crates. The boxes of ammo sat next to each crate, and he had even cleaned each one even though they were new and never used before.

The weapons had been organized into three groups in three crates. Heavy weapons, long range and short range weapons. The team's sole Rocket Launcher went in the first, while Battle Rifles and the single Sniper Rifle went in the second. The last held the Assault Rifles and pistols.

He turned around when he heard the footsteps, and saw Grif walking toward him, stuffing a doughnut in his mouth. "I've got great news, Simmons," the fat Sergeant said in between chews. "The Blues got a new person."

"So?" Simmons asked, folding his arms. "We're about to get four more new recruits later today."

"Just take a look." Grif thrust a datapad into his hands.

Simmons looked down at the file and broke out into a smile. "Caboose? How did they get Caboose? We never get that lucky."

Grif shrugged. "I'm telling you, my job is already getting easier. Caboose already killed one of their members."

"That's great," Simmons replied, handing the datapad back. "Hey, Grif. About yesterday..."

"Yeah, what about it?"

"The whole thing with the microwave, the thumbs up, what was that about?"

Grif smiled, and some doughnut sprinkles fell out of his mouth. "Oh, that? Dude, I was trying to help you out. And I did help you out."

"Really? By hogging the microwave and acting like a jerk?" Simmons shook his head. "That's not much of a help."

"No no no. You've got it all wrong," Grif said. "I was doing all of that so that..." He looked around, making sure that the two of them were alone. "...so that you could help Lin out."

"...what?"

"Lin hates cold pizza. That was one of the most prominent things on her record, and I know-"

"Prominent?" Simmons echoed, hint of surprise in his voice. "That's a big word for you, Grif."

"Shut up. As I was saying," Grif went on, pulling out the last doughnut and tossing the empty box to the ground. "I know that you like Lin, so I-"

"What would make you think that?" Simmons asked, defensively. "I don't know where you got that idea, but it's crazy."

Grif smiled. Might be crazy, he thought, but he didn't deny it. "So I set up a situation in which you would set up and help, thus making you look better in front of her. And everything played out exactly like I planned it to."

Simmons blinked. That sounded way too detailed for something that Grif created. "Um...you can't name any of the states. What makes you think that you can plan something like that out?"

"Well...I picked up a few things from Tucker shortly before he left," Grif admitted. "He knew a lot about how to set people up...and I'm not really going into detail about the rest of our discussion."

"Thank God for that," Simmons muttered. "But even if you're trying to help, you shouldn't keep trying. All you would be doing in wasting your time."

Grif shook his head. "Oh, come on. How can you expect to succeed with an attitude like that? No, you've got to be positive and confident, and you need to keep trying even when it looks like you're going to fail, because that's how people get shit done."

"It's not that," Simmons replied, looking down at his feet. "It's just that...well, I'm not exactly what some would call romance material. I've had no prior experience, I'm awkward around girls, and I would simply screw it all up."

"Like I said, you need to have a more positive outlook about this," Grif insisted. "You work on that, and I'll see what I can do to possibly set you up with Lin."

"Grif, that sounds like the stupidest idea I ever heard," said Simmons, looking back up at his Sergeant. "But, for what it's worth...thanks."

* * *

Grif and Simmons were waiting as the Troop-Transport Warthog rolled to a stop inside their base. "So, I guess you guys are the rest of our squad?" he said, as the four Red soldiers filed out of the vehicle. "You guys don't look like much. State your name and rank." He was trying to sound professional in front of the new guys.

All for stood in a line shoulder to shoulder and saluted Grif. Well, the third person down wasn't saluting. "Corporal Robert Jensen reporting for duty," said the first one, stepping forward. Jensen was easily six and a half feet tall, with muscles that nearly broke through his armor's undersuit.

"Private Michael O'Malley," said the second one. He was only about five feet tall, and lacked the muscles that Jensen had. He was just about as scrawny as Simmons.

"O'Malley, huh?" Grif asked, looking him up and down. "I've had some bad experiences with someone named O'Malley before..."

"I assure you, sir," O'Malley said, "I won't cause you any trouble."

Grif nodded. "That's right. You won't." He turned to the third soldier, the second woman in their squad. "And you?"

"Private Amelia Clarke," she answered, seeming to have no interest whatsoever. She was the only one who wasn't saluting Grif. Amelia brushed her brown hair over her shoulder, and went back to inspecting her nails, despite the fact that she was wearing a full suit of armor.

"Okay...moving on," Grif said, looking to the last guy.

"Um...Private Riley Wattson," the last guy stammered, avoiding eye contact. He was the shortest in the group, being only four-seven. He seemed a little shy and awkward like Simmons. Man, why did half of the new guys remind Grif of Simmons?

"Alright," Grif said, folding his arms. "First things first; I'm Sergeant Grif. You are all under my command, and you will respect my authority. This," he motioned to Simmons next to him, "Is Private Simmons, my second in command."

Jensen slowly raised his hand. "Um...sir? I have question?"

"Yes?"

"Well, I'm a Corporal, and he's a Private. Shouldn't_ I _be the second in command?"

"Didn't I just say that you will respect my authority?" Grif reminded him. "Seriously rookie, you need to pay more attention." He motioned back toward the bunkhouses. "You'll find you other teammate, Private Lindsey West, in the back. She will take you to your rooms."

Lin walked out, typing something into her datapad. "That's right," she acknowledged. "You'll all be sharing rooms with another soldier, since there isn't enough room for individual rooms."

Jensen turned to O'Malley. "I wouldn't mind sharing a room with her, if you know what I mean," he said with a laugh. O'Malley shrugged, not wanting to cause any trouble like he was told.

Lin ignored him. "Jensen you'll be sharing room 2 with O'Malley. Wattson, you and Simmons have room 3. Clarke, you be with me in room 1." She looked up from her datapad. "Each room has two beds, two armor racks, and one computer. It's up to the inhabitants of each room to decide on the details of who gets what."

Amelia was the first to speak up. "What about him?" she asked, pointing at Grif. "Where's he sleeping?"

"Sergeant Grif has the Sergeant's Quarters," Lin explained. "He has the room to himself."

"What? Why doesn't he have to share? What makes him so special?" Amelia crossed her arms, look of agitation on her face. "That's not fair."

Grif shrugged. "I'm the Sergeant. What I say goes. And I say that I get my own room."

"Alright," Lin said, looking over to her Sergeant, "anything else you want to add, Sergeant Grif?" When Grif shook his head, Lin turned back to the troops. "We'll begin training exercises tomorrow at eight AM sharp." She looked over to Grif. "You can dismiss us now."

"Um...dismissed," Grif said, watching as the troops left. Amelia stormed off, stomping in her metal armored boots as she left. Jensen was checking out both Lin and Amelia as he left. Wattson took up the rear, avoid the others.

As soon as everyone had gone, it was just Grif and Simmons. "So, Simmons," Grif said, turning to his maroon counter part. "Exactly how do you plan on getting Lin? Are you just going to wing it, or is there actually a plan?"

Simmons glared at him. "I thought that you were the one with the plan, while I was the one with the benefits. Besides, you're the only one out of the two of us that actually had a girlfriend..." He trailed off when he thought about it. "Well, actually, I can't really say that she was a girl, she did have a dick..."

"Hey! Where the hell did you hear that story?" Grif asked. "There's only one other person that knows about that!"

"I heard it from Doc," Simmons replied, smiling beneath his helmet. "He heard it from Church, who heard it from your sister, who heard it from Tucker. To be honest, I laughed when I heard the story."

"You know what? I fucking hate you."

* * *

_Private First Class Lindsey West  
Audio Journal Entry 432_

"_It's been a while since I left. They probably aren't looking for me anymore, but if they are they won't find me. I joined the Red army, which is probably the last place they would look. Although, I'm beginning to wonder if that was the right move."_

"_Today is my second day on the team. The rest of the squad arrived today, and two of them seem like jerks. Robert Jensen's just an asshole, and I've nearly had to break his hand off twice today. He's morphing Micheal O'Malley into his wingman so they can pick up chicks. Not like they have much of a selection. It's just me and Amelia._

"_Speaking of Amelia, Clarke's a stuck-up bitch, thinking that she's too good for this place. She's already stolen my bed and over 75% of the room. She also thinks she's the one in charge, and has been bossing all of the guys around. Jensen and O'Malley are all over it, while Wattson is too shy to do anything about it. Simmons is the only one who ignores her, but she doesn't seem to mind."_

"_Note: Report this to Sergeant Grif, and have him deal with her accordingly."_

"_Speaking of Sergeant Grif, he's the most sensible one here. He's kinda laid back, but he's nice. I couldn't have asked for a better Sergeant."_

"_And Simmons, he's quite the character. I think he'll get along with Wattson, since they both share similar qualities. Simmons is easily the smartest one on the team, although most of his knowledge is for computers and tech and all that, not so much in combat. But, he seems like the only one that I can trust. Maybe I can get him to help me."_

"_Now that all of that is aside, it's time for an update on my search. I've been having to put it off for the past few months, but I've been doing research. But nothing so far. I've gotten nowhere. Like I said, Simmons is good with computers, maybe I can get him to do some hacking."_

_Private Lindsey West, signing off."_


	3. Defensive Options

_Chapter Three: Defensive Options_

"No."

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I said that I'm not going to do it."

Grif and Private Clarke were locked in a stalemate, arms crossed at glaring at each other through their helmets' visor. "At what point did you have an option, Private?" Grif asked. "I'm in charge, and while you're here you'll do as I say."

Amelia scoffed. "I don't care what you say. I'm not running through that stupid obstacle course, and you can't make me."

The rest of the troops were standing around the weapons crates, watching the showdown. "I'm placing my money on the lady," Jensen said, pulling out an Assault Rifle for the target practice. "If there's one thing I've learned in my life it's that people like her always get what they want. I wouldn't be surprised if her daddy was rich and she was spoiled rotten her whole life."

"Yeah, I'm with you on that," O'Malley agreed, also taking an Assault Rifle. "I know her type. She's the type that'll agree to go out with you, but then...then it turns it it was all just a prank and soon you're in the back of your car with your pants down and she's there with the whole football team laughing at you." He quickly turned his head away and slipped a hand into his helmet to wipe his eyes.

There was an awkward silence among the troops. "Um, what was that about the football team?"

"N-nothing."

"...you want to talk about it?" Simmons asked, shouldering his Battle Rifle.

"Ah, no. I'm good."

Lin grabbed a pistol and checked the clip, before pulling the slide back and placing it on her hip. "I'm going to go help Sergeant Grif out. He seems to be having a problem."

"I hope there's a chick fight," said Jensen. O'Malley nodded in agreement. "That would really spice things up over here."

"There's probably not going to be any fight," Simmons informed them. "Grif is probably going to win, with Lin's help, and then that's the end of it. He might not even need Lin's help. Grif outranks her, so he has the final word."

Jensen shrugged. "Meh, I liked the way it worked out in my head." He turned to Simmons. "Hey, Sim? I've noticed that you always call Sarge by his first name. What's up with that? Shouldn't you call him Sarge too?"

Simmons shook his head. "Grif and I were both Privates together back in Blood Gulch, so I'm used to calling him by name only. Our Sergeant there was Sarge, and that's all we knew him by. I refuse to compare Grif to Sarge. Sarge was better. And Grif is his last name. His first name is Dexter."

"She's going in," O'Malley announced, watching as Lin entered the fight. Grif had already backed up several feet, and Lin and Amelia were shouting at each other. "Oh man, this looks like it's going to end great!"

That's when all hell broke loose. Amelia reached out and slapped Lin across the face, despite them both being in full body armor. Lin looked up at her in disbelief, and then got shoved to the ground before she could retaliate.

Grif retreated to the rest of his squad. "I'm not getting in the middle of that," he said, watching as Amelia pounced on top of Lin and began hitting her with both fists. "Jensen, you should go stop that."

"You want me to get in the middle of that?" he asked, shocked. "Oh hell yeah! I'll get in between them!"

"Scratch that," Grif said. "Wattson, you go do it."

"M-m-me, sir?" Wattson stammered. "But I wouldn't be able to do anything..."

Grif groaned. "Whatever. I'll send Simmons. It's not going to stop itself, you know."

Just like that, Lin kicked Amelia off of her, and jumped back up to her feet. Amelia pushed herself back up and growled, swinging her fist. Lin caught in one hand, and used the other to punch Amelia in the stomach. It had all happened so fast that no one actually knew what had happened until they reviewed the footage from their helmet's camera in slow motion.

"Well...that was certainly unexpected," Simmons comment at the sight.

Amelia doubled over, and Lin walked back over to the guys. "Problem solved," she said. "Okay, well, she won't be doing the obstacle course, and probably will miss out on target practice, but...still. I could be a while before she disobeys a direct order."

Simmons went over to her side, concerned at the sight of the scratches and small hairline cracks on her visor. "Are you okay? She was hitting you pretty hard." _It would have to be harder than hard_, he reasoned, _after all, she cracked Lin's fucking visor!_

"I'm fine," she replied. "It's not all that bad." Lin pulled off her helmet. "It's not that bad, right?" she asked, just for confirmation. Her bottom lip was busted, and blood was leaking out of her nose. Her left eye was slightly bruised, while there was a larger bruise over over other.

"Well," Simmons cocked his head. He wasn't a medic, but you could definitely tell that it had to hurt. "You are bleeding." He pulled a med kit from the nearby wall, and took a cloth for it. "I'll take care of it."

Lin pushed his hand away. "Simmons, I said I was fine." She turned to the rest of the team, still looking for her confirmation. "Seriously guys, it's not that bad." She looked at her reflection in her helmet's visor. She stared at it for a few seconds, traced the bruises, and then laughed. "Oh come on, I've hard far worse than that."

"Well, you're not as hot like that, but I like a woman with some battle scars on her." Jensen said, motioning toward the makeshift firing range, which consisted of last night's empty beer bottles (90% of them came from Grif) set up on crates on the far wall. "Let's get to shooting. That's always my favorite part."

A loud crack rang out, and the Assault Rifle was shot out of Jensen's hands. "What the hell?" he cursed, jumping back as the rifle skidded across the concrete floor with a dent in it. "What the hell was that?"

Everyone whipped their heads around to see several figures in Blue armor bunkering down behind some crates at the open far wall of their base, which was also the way to the Blue base. "Open fire!" shouted one, presumably the Sergeant, in a gruff voice. "Send them to hell!"

Grif was the first to act. He jumped behind on of the weapons crates and made no notion of returning fire. "Take cover!" he ordered, although his troops had already found something to hide behind. "Open fire! Throw some grenades or...or something!"

Simmons sighed, pulling back the bolt on his Battle Rifle. "Grif, you're a horrible leader, and you're going to get us all killed. No surprise there."

"Oh shut up and shoot!" Grif shouted, poking his rifle out far enough to fire off a few shots before he was pinned down by SMG fire. The Blues had already set up a decent position, and they had the luck of arriving at their base a week before the Reds. "Jensen! O'Malley! Stop dicking around and get some grenades out there!"

"But you have the grenade box!" O'Malley shouted back, couched down behind an empty crate. He fired his Assault Rifle randomly over to the top, to no success at all.

Grif looked down, and saw the case of four grenades at his feet. "Fuck," he muttered, reaching down and grabbing the case. "Here Simmons, catch!" Grif threw the case toward Simmons, but the case fell short and hit the ground out of Simmons' reach and right out in the middle of the firefight.

Simmons groaned. "Grif! Seriously!"

"Sorry," the Sergeant replied. "I would have thrown them myself, but from this little display you can see how well that would've gone."

"Great, so now we're pinned down by the Blues," analyzed Simmons, "And you just screwed us by putting our grenades in the middle of a killzone. We have no way of getting them, and the rockets for the M41 haven't come in yet. Just fucking great."

Lin pulled her helmet over her head, and snatched two SMGs from the nearby crate. "I got this," she said with enough confidence for all of them. "Sergeant Grif, I'm coming your way. Give me some covering fire."

"All the way over there?" Simmons asked, surprised by her action. "But that's easily three meters through a wide open area, with no form of cover, in the middle of a firefight. You'll be killed!"

She made no response, other than taking a deep breath and running out from her cover. Turning on the Blues, Lin opened fire with both sub-machine guns. At the same time, most of the Blues' fire began to stop.

_That can't be right, _Simmons thought, slowly poking his head out of cover. The Blues were forced down into cover from the SMG rounds.

She kicked the grenade box over to Grif, and then her SMGs ran dry. "Wattson, rifle," she ordered, dropping the empty weapons. The Blues began to notice that the suppressing fire had come to a stop, and started taking quick looks out of cover to see what was going on.

Wattson nervously looked down at his own BR55 Battle Rifle, before throwing it to her. Lin caught it and brought it up, aiming for any Blue stupid enough to poke their head of out cover. Slowly, the rest of the Reds joined her, keeping their rifles up. No Blue was making any move at the moment, they were still cowering behind cover. "Sergeant Grif, hand me a grenade."

Grif fumbled with the latches on the box, and finally pulled out a frag. He went to toss it to her, and then remembered how well that had worked the last time he tried it, so he simply rolled it across the ground to her.

Lin looked down as the grenade tapped her foot. "I said hand me the grenade, not roll it," she remarked, stooping down to pick it up, careful not to take her eyes off of the Blues' position. "Let's see if we can't scare some of these fuckers out."

With a swift pull of the pin, the grenade arced into the general location of the Blues. Several curses were muttered, and the sergeant ordered for a retreat. The grenade exploded, and a howl of pain followed directly after.

"Sergeant Miller!" One of the Blues shouted. "They hurt Johannes, sir!" The Blue darted out of cover to assist the wounded soldier, but Lin was laying in wait with her rifle at the ready. She smirked as she fired off a three round burst, nailing the trooper in the shoulder.

Simmons was impressed with Lin's combat display. He leaned over to her. "I thought you said that you sucked as a solider," he commented, hint of sass in his voice. "Are you still sure about that?"

"Simmons, this isn't the time," Lin insisted, looking for any signs of either wounded Blue.

Simmons shrugged and looked around, eyes trailing from the Blues' cover. After all, the rest of the Red team, save for Grif, had nearly every angle covered, so it would be hard to any of the enemies to move. His eyes landed on Jensen's fallen Assault Rifle. The dent on the barrel was large enough to render the weapon useless. That sniper had just wasted one of their guns.

Wait...sniper?

Whirling around, he scanned the area above the Blue's position, and saw exactly what he expected. A single Blue soldier was laying prone on the rusty pipe with a sniper rifle in his hands. Time seemed to slow down as Simmons' brain went into analysis mode.

_The sniper appears to be taking aim...but at who? It has to be someone of importance, since firing another shot would only give the sniper away. It can't be Grif, since he's still hiding behind the crate, well out of sight. Jensen? While he is the second highest rank, there's no possible way for them to know that. _

When it hit him, he cursed himself because he should've seen it sooner than he hand. The Blue was aiming for Lin.

"Sniper!" shouted Simmons, as he jumped into action. He practically tackled Lin, who instantly began protesting, and dragged her to the ground. Not a moment too soon. Simmons heard the sniper shot, and felt the wind off the bullet on his neck. That had been close.

The rest of the Red snapped their weapons to the starting point of the vapor tail left behind, only to find that the sniper had already taken off. Unfortunately, this distraction allowed the Blues to retreat back to the safety of their base.

"Um...you can get off of me now, Simmons," Lin said, still trapped under the maroon soldier. "I think we're in the clear.

"Oh, um...sorry," he instantly replied, getting off of her and helping her to her feet. His face then turned a beet red when he realized that he had just been on top of a girl. But he was lucky that he had his helmet on, and that it went unnoticed. But he still shot a glance over at Jensen and O'Malley, who had already begun to snicker at the sight. "No comments, please."

The two of them looked at each other, and then back to Simmons. "What did you think we were going to comment about, Simmons?" O'Malley asked, flicking on the safety of his rifle and attaching it to his back. Jensen did the same with a nod, and then folded his arms.

Simmons shook his head. "You know what, just forget it. Forget that you ever saw that." The maroon soldier began walking over to Grif to chastise the Sergeant for bad leadership skills in a combat situation.

O'Malley nodded and turned away. "Yeah, we'll do that."

* * *

When Simmons was out of earshot, he turned to his counterpart Jensen. "You saw that, right?" he asked in a low voice.

"Simmons was on top of Lin," Jensen answered in an equally low voice with a nod. "But that was to protect her from getting shot."

"No, it was the way he was on her," O'Malley replied. "Trust me, I know a lot about stuff like this, through means I'm not proud of, and there's something more there. I think Simmons has a crush."

Jensen laughed. "So what if he does? That nerd probably won't get someone like Lin. She's too good for him." He slapped his chestplate. "She's for someone like me." He looked over his shoulder at Lin, who was once again looking at her wounds in her visor. "I'm the right person for her."

O'Malley nodded. "I agree, and I'm going to help you get her, as long as you help me get Amelia. That was our deal, right."

"Right. So what's our first move?"

"I've calculated our odds, and we don't really have much of a shot on the offensive," O'Malley explained, "we have a better shot if we take the defensive approach."

Jensen glared at him. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Simple. If we make it active that we like them, then we'll have less of a chance than if we wait." O'Malley could still tell that his friend was having a hard time understanding. Looks like he would have to dumb it down, again. "First, we make no advances on them, make it seem as if we have no interest in them. Then we make each of the other guys seem like trash compared to us, thus making us look better. Since we'll be in this hellhole for a while, we'd be the only two appealing guys that they would have access to, and thus..."

"Hm..." Jensen thought it over, smiling slowly spreading on his lips as everything came together. "So all we have to do is find ways to make each of the guys here look off-putting, and then we're golden, eh? Doesn't sound so hard."

O'Malley nodded. "Shouldn't be, but we need to be as careful as possible. The dirt we get on the other guys has to be obtained in a way that doesn't make us look bad, or in a way where there's an easy cover story. Then all we have to do is act like gentlemen, and let them come to us."

Jensen just smiled. "You're evil, you know that. Just evil."

"Trust me, I know," O'Malley replied. He tapped the side of his helmet. "No better place to use this genius of a brain, though."

* * *

"Attention!" Grif ordered, returning to his leadership role. They were gathered in the Rec Room, which was the glorified name for the wide open space that they had nothing to do with. "We were just attacked by the Blues, and were caught off guard. Do you know what that means?"

"That we suck?" Jensen offered hopefully.

Grif shook his head. "No. That is true, but that's not what I'm getting at. We need someone on guard duty. Someone keeping an eye out for any Blue movement. That way, we can't be caught off guard again."

Simmons furrowed his brow. Grif was actually making a smart decision for once. He couldn't tell if Grif was changing to fit the role, or if there was some for of ulterior motive behind his watchman plan. Possibly reduce the number of troops wandering around to make his raids on the mess hall easier. Guess he would have to find out later.

"Also, on a more important note," Grif went on, "I'm sure you're aware that we're due for sometime off within the next week or so. Command thought it would be a good idea to send some of our unit on a small vacation so we can, ahem, get to know each other better."

Everyone looked at each other. "Um...don't you think that cramming us in a base together would do that?" O'Malley asked. "Not that I'm complaining or anything, but it seems like command is just being plain stupid with this."

"Hey, who the hell cares what Command is doing?" Grif asked. "We get some down time for no apparent reason, and that's always a plus. And then there's the downside."

Everyone save for Lin groaned. There's always a downside.

"The downside is that I can only take four people on this, and we have seven here at our base. That means three people have to stay."

"We can do the math," Simmons muttered instinctively.

"Now, the only problem is who is going, and who is not going," Grif went on. "I know that I am going, and that leaves three open places. I have a week to decide who's going, so everybody should be on their best behavior." He shot at look at the makeshift lookout stand, which was just a camping stool on top of a large crate. A very angry looking Red sat on the chair. "Amelia won't be considered for this, since she's already disobeyed direct orders. She has to stay on watch duty for the whole week. Any questions?"

No one's hand went up.

"Good. Dismissed."

Simmons sighed. He knew exactly how this was going to go. Grif was going to abuse this opportunity to make people do a lot of stuff for him so they'll get to go on a vacation. However, he wasn't concerned about it. He was 98.4% sure that Grif would take him along regardless.

"Hey, Simmons, you're good with computers, right?" Lin looked a little nervous as she asked, maybe even a hint of worry on her face.

"Probably the best one here, so yeah."

"Then can I get you to meet me alone in my room tomorrow, right after lunch?" she asked. "There's something really important that I need you to do for me."

"Um...I...uh, um sure," Simmons stammered. He hadn't actually considered the chance that Lin would ask him to her room alone, or at all for that matter, and only after a few days since they first met. This was a sudden development.

Lin nodded, before taking a few steps back. "Great, see you then," she said, turning and walking back to her room.


	4. Computer Maintenance

_Chapter Four: Computer __Maintenance_

"Okay, all you've got to do is play it cool," Grif told Simmons. The Sergeant was leaning back in his bed when Simmons paced back and forth in Grif's quarters. "If you go in there like a train wreck, that'll only make it worse for you."

Simmons was still nervous over Lin's invitation. "But, Grif...what if she tries to...to kiss me? What'll I do?"

Grif sighed and dropped his head back on his pillow. "Simmons, you haven't known her for a full week. There's no way in hell she's going to try to kiss you. It's probably just like I said, she might be having computer problems and needs the nerd to fix it for her."

"Yeah, probably," Simmons agreed. "But what if it isn't?" He suddenly went into another miniature panic attack. "What if there's something more to it?"

"Relax, for the love of humanity," Grif ordered, though it sounded more like a plea. "See? This is your problem. You overreact to things like this. Just take the advice I gave you on day one. You do that, and then-"

"What if she doesn't like cyborgs?" Simmons asked. "Then she'll hate me, and it won't even be my own fault! It'll be all Sarge's fault. Damn that good man!"

Grif tilted his head. "What in the hell are you talking about? It's hardly noticeable," he said. "It's just mainly your internal organs. She'll never know...unless she reads your file, which I'm sure she has."

"You're not helping!"

"I've been trying! But all you do is complain that things won't work out. All you have to do is be yourself, and it'll work out in the end," Grif replied, folding his arms. "How many times do I have to get it through your thick fucking skull?"

Unsurprisingly, that didn't help at all. "Grif! Why are you yelling at me in a time like this?" Simmons asked, shaking in his armor. "Can't you see I'm nervous?"

"What? This is ridiculous," Grif said. "Dude, it's not like she's asking you to marry her. All she wants you to do is help her with a computer. It's not that bad. Just take a deep breath, relax, and become more of a man in the next few minutes. You can't be a wimp all your life."

Simmons knew Grif was right, as much as he hated to admit it. So he took a breath, and tried to relax. "So, I'm just going to go in there and help with her computer, and then I'm out, nothing will happen between us, and all will be good."

Grif nodded. "It aren't that hard," he muttered. "And while you're there, act nice, be a gentleman, compliment her some. Try to show her that you're interest in her without letting her know that you're interested."

"...what?"

"If you can get her to know that you like her, and without making it look like you know about it, then you might have a better chance."

"...how?"

Grif hesitated. "Um...I don't know, but I'm sure it'll help someway." He saw Simmons glaring at him. "Hey, I'm not a girl! I don't know how they think! Trust me, if I did, then this would be a hell of a lot easier on me. I wouldn't have to give the most socially awkward person I know advice on girls."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Simmons muttered, turning for the door. "Well, here goes nothing."

Grif watched as Simmons left. He smiled, knowing that he was helping his friend finally get a girl. Although, it was harder than he thought it would be. After all, it was Simmons, and he was helping him alone. Well, not really alone. He did have some help.

* * *

Lin was relaxing her in bed when there was a knock at the door. "Who is it?" she asked, even though she knew exactly who it was.

"It's...um, Simmons."

"Come on in."

The door swung opened, and Simmons walked in, jittery as ever. "I'm here. You said you wanted to see me about something. Something with the computer, right?" He was trying not to look like he was nervous, but Lin saw that something was bothering him.

She nodded toward the computer desk. "It's right there," she said, climbing out of her bed. Simmons went over to the computer, and Lin went for the door. With a loud thud, the metal door shut.

Simmons jerked his head around at the sound. Now Lin was shutting the door on them? This was definitely starting to get worse. "Um...you can leave that open if you want. It doesn't bother me." He looked over the computer, and so far everything seemed fine.

"Simmons, can I trust you?"

"Um...yeah?"

"Are you asking me, or telling me?"

"Telling?"

Lin folded her arms.

"Um...yeah, I guess you can trust me. It's not like I'll do anything to jeopardize-"

"There's nothing wrong with the computer. That was a false pretense," Lin admitted, smiling at Simmons' reaction. He was obviously uneasy about the situation, and Lin had no doubt that he'd never been alone with a girl in her room before.

"Um...then why am I here?" Simmons asked, wringing his hands together. Oh, he wasn't ready for this. Lin...Lin wasn't coming onto him, was she? Honestly, was she? Simmons' couldn't tell.

"Okay, here's the thing." Lin sat down on her bed, and took a deep breath. "I've been...looking for someone, and I haven't had much success. So I was hoping that you could use the computer, maybe hack into commands files, and help me track him down. You think you can do that?"

Simmons felt relieved and hurt at the same time. Lin wasn't forcing him into an awkward situation, but who ever this guy was, she really seemed to care about him. After several seconds of silence, Simmons nodded. "I'll try my best, but I might not be able to break into Commands files. It is Command after all."

"All I'm asking is that you try," Lin replied.

Pulling the chair under him, Simmons set to work. Hacking takes a lot of work, and the more paranoid the owner of the database you're trying to hack is, the harder it is. Now if you have a Military Command Base, that alone seems impossible. But Simmons knows computers.

"So," he said after a few minutes of typing. "This guy you're looking for...he your boyfriend?"

Lin laughed. "No, no. He's just an old friend of mine. I haven't seen him in years. Besides, I think I might be falling for someone else."

That caught Simmons attention. He felt a new wave of hope wash over him, but he battered it down. He wasn't going to risk making any mistakes by asking who it was. "Really, now? That's interesting."

"Yeah, but I doubt he'll ever go for me," she replied quietly. "I just don't seem like his type."

Simmons decided that it was best not to press at this moment. That area was a whole patch of thin ice, and Simmons was in heavy steel armor. He'd say something wrong and screw something up. "So...this guy you're hunting down, were the two of you close? Like as friends," he added quickly.

Lin shrugged. "I guess. We were as close as we could be. We couldn't be seen together, so I we had to keep it on the down-low, but we were as close as we could be. He was nice, funny, charming, unlike his dad. He was a stuck up jerk."

There was a silence for nearly ten minutes as Simmons worked, trying to keep his mind on his work and not on the beautiful woman in the room. "Alright! I'm in," Simmons said, jumping from his seat. A smile of surprised confidence came over his face. He didn't think that he would've been able to pull this off. "What's his name? I'll put it through a search and pull him out for you."

"Um...actually, I want to do this part alone," Lin said, rubbing the back of her neck. "It's kinda personal. You understand, right?"

"Oh...um, sure. I'll just go outside and...do something...that needs to be done," Simmons awkwardly replied, walking to the door. He pulled it open, and was about to leave when Lin stopped him.

"Hey Simmons?"

"Yeah?"

"...thanks. I'll make it up to you someday."

* * *

"I see," Grif said, as Simmons explained to him what had happened in Lin's room. "So she says that she likes someone..." He smiled, reaching for another pack of chips on the mess hall table. "What did I tell you? All you had to do was listen to my advice, and boom! She admits that she likes you."

Simmons shook his head. "No, she didn't say that she liked _me. _She said that she liked someone."

"You're someone, dude."

"Yeah, but probably not the same someone she's talking about," Simmons replied, folding his arms as Grif dumped the potato chips in his mouth. "Grif, I've never seen you eat this much before. I mean, I'm used to seeing you eat a lot, but this is the sixteenth bag of chips. There's something bothering you, isn't there."

Grif huffed, swallowing the chips. "No."

"You're lying."

"No I'm not."

"You did it again."

With a sigh, Grif reached his hand into his ammo pouch, and pulled out a slip of paper. "Here's the list of people that I selected to go on this "vacation" that Command seems all to eager to send us on."

Simmons decided against telling him that the ammo pouches are strictly for ammo, because that would only annoy the sergeant further. He read over the list of names, caught off guard after the last name.

_Simmons  
Lin  
Wattson  
O'Malley_

"Grif, you're not going?" asked Simmons, looking up from the paper.

The fat orange Sergeant shook his head. "No. I can't. Apparently, Command was pretty clear that they wanted Lin to stay behind for some surprise inspection. If she did, then there wouldn't be able to hit on her at the beach, so I decided to stay her and pull rank on them when they came."

"You do know that Command outranks you, right?"

"Ah, who gives a fuck? Those guys are stupid."

"Yeah, they are." Simmons paused, realizing that Grif was willing to sacrifice a vacation just to help him out. That had to be the most selfless thing that Grif had done for him in a long while. "Thanks for doing what you're doing," Simmons told him handing the paper back. "But if you're not there to give me advice, then what am I going to do? Wing it?"

Grif shook his head. "Nope. I've got a backup plan. Just call here everyday, and I'll tell you what to do. I've got an inside man who will be keeping an eye on you. He'll keep me up to date."

"Why can't I keep you up to date when I call base everyday?"

"...Simmons, sometimes you make too much sense."

* * *

**Meanwhile, at Command...**

The figure glared down at the small officer, who was cowering under the hulk of a man in front of him. "Tell me everything."

The officer currently in charge tapped one of the nearby computer screens, show a report of the past several days. "It went pretty much like planned. We lowered the security standards, and sure enough someone hacked in. The keywords searched in the database were exactly what you planned on."

"So...it is Miss West, then?"

The officer nodded. "We believe so. We tracked the hacker back to a small simulation outpost; Rat's Nest. The Red CO is a Sergeant Grif, while the Blue CO is a Sergeant Miller, but he's up for a promotion."

The figure waved the information off. "Irrelevant. Where is Lin? I still need to repay her from the last time," he said, rubbing the side of his neck. "Which side did the hack come from?"

"The Red side," the officer continued. "We sent some orders to the Reds, telling them to take some time off. There were specific orders for them not to take West with them, so we can move in and take her with little resistance."

"When do we leave," the figure asked, adjusting the Security class shoulder armor on his let shoulder. "I'm hell-bent on revenge."

"The Reds will be departing tomorrow," the officer said. "You'll move out then. Remember, leave no witnesses."

"I never leave witnesses."


End file.
